


Hush

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Human Experimentation, Magneto Is a Bad Dad, Mutant Experimentation, Near Death Experience, Pietro Maximoff Needs a Hug, Scott just wants to help, Seizures, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29024766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: Maximoff was off his game. It was the only thought running through Scott’s mind as he shot a blast near the speedster, barely missing him that time. It was strange. Usually he was off by a mile. Pietro never got hit. Not unless he wanted to. Not unless it was part of a play…Something wasn’t right.He could feel it in his gut.Pietro was never this slow.
Relationships: Pietro Maximoff & Scott Summers
Comments: 31
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Pax for the beta!

**Hush now darlin’, don’t say a word. Demons calling, they’ll eat your soul. I’m not sorry for what will come, what you don’t know.**

Maximoff was off his game. It was the only thought running through Scott’s mind as he shot a blast near the speedster, barely missing him that time. It was strange. Usually he was off by a mile. Pietro never got hit. Not unless he wanted to. Not unless it was part of a play…

Something wasn’t right.

He could feel it in his gut.

Pietro was never this slow. 

It took two of them to take him down on a bad day, and Scott was easily handling him alone.

“Too slow, Summers.” The younger teen stopped running long enough to taunt him. “What a surprise.”

Scott was on the ground before he’d realized what had hit him. He gasped, trying to get the air back into his lungs.

“What?” Pietro questioned, that ever-present smirk plastered on his face. Scott wondered, not for the first time, if Pietro had an ounce of empathy in him. Somehow, he doubted it. “Didn’t see that coming?”

Scott could see his face clearly from this angle. Dark circles were under Pietro’s eyes, prominent against his pale skin.  _ He’s not sleeping and he’s still kicking your ass.  _ “No back-up today?” he questioned as he made his way to his feet. The rest of the loser gang was nowhere in sight.

It wasn’t a comforting thought.

Something flashed in Pietro’s eyes, and Scott was back on the ground before he could blink. 

He’d barely felt Pietro’s hands on him.

Bastard.

Pietro played dirty. Always had.

It was a stupid move to pick a fight with him alone. Scott had known that.

And yet here they were.

He shot a blast at Pietro and grinned when it grazed his arm, leaving a nasty burn that was already starting to heal. Pietro’s expression turned dangerous, and Scott braced himself for a blow that never came. “What?” he taunted. “Not as bold when daddy isn’t around to bail you out?”

He heard the crack before he felt it.

Pietro was small, but damn he hit hard. Scott would be feeling that bruise on his jaw for a week.

He glared as Pietro grabbed him by his collar and pulled him to his feet. Stronger than he looked too.

Pietro’s expression was all ice and cold fury. It was uncanny, how similar his expressions could be to Magneto’s. He looked worse up close, Scott couldn’t help but think.

“Piece of advice, Summers,” the younger teen growled and threw Scott back onto the ground. “Stay the fuck out of things you don’t understand.”

\-------------------------------------------

“What happened to you?” Logan questioned as Scott made his way into the manor. 

His jaw was already turning purple and he was sure his clothes were battered from the falls he’d taken. “Maximoff happened,” he responded, turning to glare at the man. Logan always told them not to fight his battles. So why the hell did he care about Scott’s?

Logan frowned and put his hands on his hips. “The hell are you thinking going up against him alone?”

“He’s up to something,” Scott replied, not that he had to explain himself to Logan. “I know he is.”

He let the fight replay in his mind. Pietro’s moves were usually graceful, fluid. Almost like a dance. But today? They’d been clumsy, not to mention he’d fought dirtier than usual.

“I see,” Logan responded in a tone that Scott knew meant he’d fucked up big time. “So you thought you’d go after Magneto’s son on a  _ hunch.”  _

“Stay out of it, Logan,” Scott warned. “I can take care of myself.”   


He felt Logan’s eyes drift up to the forming bruise. He didn’t have to look down to see the man’s eyebrow raised. “What?” Scott demanded.

“Be careful when it comes to that one, kid. Somethin’ about him ain’t right.”

“Please,” Scott scoffed. “I can handle Pietro Maximoff.”

\----------------------------------------------------------

Pietro was smart. Scott had to give him credit for that much, at least. He may have been a sophomore, but he shared three classes with Scott, none of them easy. The kid was on track to be valedictorian of his class, and Scott wondered how he managed to juggle school and the Brotherhood and stay on top of both.

He glanced over to Pietro’s desk, watching as he worked on balancing the equation on the board. The boy’s brow was furrowed, and his tongue poked out of his mouth as he concentrated. Slowly, though, he could see Pietro tense. 

He watched as he turned and looked him directly in the eye. “The hell do you think you’re looking at, Summers?” 

“Mr. Maximoff,” Mr. McCoy scolded. “Focus, please.”

“What?” Pietro demanded, his tone taking on the dangerous quality that always meant trouble, at least on the battlefield. “Summers started it.”

“Watch it, Pietro,” McCoy warned.

Scott watched as Pietro shook his head and shoved his books off his desk. “Fuck this,” the boy said as he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

He heard Mr. McCoy sigh and watched as he crossed the room to the phone. “Mr. Kelly?” Scott lowered his head and tried to focus on his work. “Expect Pietro Maximoff in your office later today.”

\-------------------------------------------

"Can I go to the bathroom?" Scott asked when his teacher called on him. He watched as she thought it over for a moment before telling him to hurry. He didn't particularly need to go. He just needed a breather.

He grabbed the pass by the door and stepped into the hall, empty as it should have been for this time of the day. He pushed the door to the closest bathroom open and stepped inside.

Pietro stood there gripping the sink. Just his luck. The last thing he needed was an altercation with Maximoff on school property. The Professor wouldn't be happy if he got a call from Kelly about a fight, regardless of who would end up starting it.

But Pietro didn't seem to notice Scott, or didn't care. Scott wasn't sure it mattered one way or another. He should have ignored him, walked away and headed back to class, but his self-preservation instinct had never been the strongest, and he found himself watching the underclassman.

He watched as Maximoff loosened his grip on the sink and he frowned when he saw the boy’s hands were shaking. It could have been the light, but Scott could have sworn he was even paler than usual. "What do you  _ want,  _ Summers?" he sighed and shut his eyes.

Scott was unsure how to answer the question. What  _ did  _ he want? He didn't know. To punch his pretty boy face in? To ask him if everything was okay?

"You look sick."

Maximoff laughed humorlessly and turned to face him. Scott was certain the circles under his eyes were even darker today.

“I’m fine,” Pietro snapped. It was unsettling, how easily he could throw his walls back up. 

“Do you want me to find Lance?”   


“I want you to leave me the hell alone!”

And there he was. The Pietro Maximoff that Scott was familiar with. The one who could break someone’s bone and laugh about it. The one who didn’t give a damn about anything that happened to anyone. The hatred in his eyes was so strong Scott wondered if he could give Magneto a run for his money.

“I don’t need your pity, Summers,” Pietro hissed, his voice filled with a venom that made Scott shudder. “I don’t need a goddamn hero coming in on some stupid white horse to save me.”

Scott frowned at that. He should have taken the hint and left. He knew what could happen if he pushed Pietro too far, and he wasn't sure he could explain another scuffle to Logan without getting chewed out and grounded for weeks. 

Maximoff was breathing heavily, and his eyes darted to the door. He could have gotten out before Scott even realized he'd moved. So why the hell was he still here?

_ I don't need you to save me. _

"What would you need saving from?"

He wasn't sure he'd said the words out loud until he saw Pietro's eyes flash once more.

"Please," the boy scoffed. "Magneto's son? Juvenile delinquent? Too far gone for Xavier to bother with? Take your pick."

Scott's frown increased at that comment. He'd never known Xavier to give up on anyone who needed him. "Look..." he started to say, but Pietro was already long gone, a gust of wind left in his wake.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, has Lance said anything about Pietro lately?" Scott asked as Kitty climbed into the car. He watched as she raised an eyebrow and buckled in.

"No?" she answered, more a question than a statement. "Since when do you care about that creep?"

"I don't," Scott insisted, throwing his hands up in defense. "It's just... There's something off about him lately. I can't place it."

"If you ask me, we should be thankful for it," Kurt said as he climbed in next to Kitty. "One less enemy to worry about, ja?"

“Seriously, Scott,” Kitty leaned against the door. “First you get into a fight with him and now you’re worried? You’re like… obsessed with him lately.”

“She’s right, you know,” Kurt added, and Scott glared at them from behind his glasses. So he was worried. Sue him. Besides, it wasn’t like they weren’t allowed to worry about people. Even if they were supposed to be enemies. Especially when they were enemies.

“Will you just let me know if Lance says anything to you?”   


“Like, whatever.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Scott watched, helpless, as Evan flew backward and hit the ground hard. He’d barely blinked when he saw Maximoff standing over him. “Told you, Daniels,” he taunted. “Not even on your best day.”

“Is it me?” Jean started, and Scott turned to face her. “Or is he faster than last time?”

Scott frowned and tried to think back to the last time they’d taken on the Brotherhood as a team. He didn’t have time to process it when he felt the ground shake beneath him. “I’ve got Avalanche,” he said, battle instincts and training kicking in, overriding any thoughts of Pietro Maximoff. “Shadowcat, Nightcrawler, deal with the speed demon.”

Kurt raised his hand in a salute before ‘porting away, Kitty running after him. 

_ ‘Something’s not right,’  _ Jean’s voice echoed in his head. Whatever it was, it must not have been serious enough to tell the rest of the team. 

Or at least, not serious enough yet.

_ ‘What do you mean?’ _

_ ‘I’m not sure,’  _ she admitted.  _ ‘Avalanche seems… Worried. And Toad’s not thinking straight.’ _

_ ‘Please. When does Tolansky ever think straight?’ _

_ ‘This is serious, Scott. Something’s up, and I don’t like it.’ _

He glanced around the battlefield, an old construction site that hadn't been touched in months. Daniels had a solid grip on Tolansky, and Rogue was on target to take out Dukes. 

But Maximoff… Maximoff was nowhere in sight. “Anyone got eyes on Quicksilver?” he asked, only to be met with a harsh kick to the back. He fell to the ground with a harsh thud.  _ Idiot,  _ he scolded himself.  _ Never lose sight of a speedster. _

He watched as Rogue turned away from Dukes, running toward him instead. 

“I’m fine,” he shouted as he struggled to find his feet. 

“Are ya, though?” Pietro questioned, grinning down at him. “Oof. That’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

Scott gritted his teeth and shot a laser off at him, frowning when Pietro flew backward.  _ You never should have landed that hit. _

“Dammit, Summers!” he could hear Pietro shout, even from a distance. “I just repaired that yesterday!”

_ He heard Jean’s voice; ‘We need to get out of here.’ _

_ ‘Are you crazy? We’re about to kick all their asses.’ _

_ ‘I don’t trust this, Scott.’ _

He brushed the dirt from his shoulders as he straightened his back. Much as he wanted to stick around and fight, he trusted Jean’s judgment.

_ ‘Okay. I’ll give the order.’ _

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was out of bed the second the alarm went off. He traded his glasses for his visor and sprinted down the stairs, no time to worry about changing. Breaches of security in the manor never meant anything good, not if history taught them anything, but then again, it just as easily could have been the Brotherhood boys looking for a fight.

"What the hell?" Evan complained as he ran down the stairs. "It's what? Three a.m.? I got class tomorrow, man."

Logan was already at the foot of the stairs, not that Scott was shocked by that. Sometimes, he wondered if Logan even slept. "Go back to bed," the older man commanded, and Scott glared at him from behind his visor. Like hell was he going to sleep and let Logan have all the fun and take all the glory.

"Look, Logan," Jean spoke before Scott could. "I know you're trying to protect us, but we're trained to..."

"They aren't looking for a fight," said Logan.

Scott scoffed at that. No one would be here at tihs time of night if they were up to no good. "Yeah? Who is this 'they' anyway?"

The door swung open, and Scott got his answer.

He saw Pietro first, deathly pale and shaking, slumped over Lance's shoulder.

"Holy shit," he heard Evan whisper and pretended not to see the death glare Lance shot at him. "The hell happened to him?"

"Move," Logan commanded.

Scott watched as the younger mutants scattered. He couldn't help but smile when he saw Jean had also held her ground.

Lance was rambling about something, and Scott was struggling to keep track of what the younger man was saying. Pietro's lips were moving, as if he were trying to say something but was unable to form the words. Scott wondered if pure stubbornness was the only thing keeping him standing. "...Didn't know where else to go," he heard Lance finish.

Scott heard the professor before he saw him.

"Take him downstairs," the professor instructed.

"Chuck, are you sure that's a..."

"Now, Logan," Xavier snapped. "We're losing time."

Lance all but growled when Logan approached them, and Scott tried to let himself imagine what he must be feeling. Because if this was him and Jean? And they were going to Mystique for help?

Scott wasn't sure he'd trust any of them to take his best friend.

Lance backed down, though, and reluctantly let Logan take Pietro. Scott watched as he lifted the teen like he was nothing.

"You're gonna help him, right?"

If Scott hadn't known any better, he would have sworn Lance was worried.

"We're going to do everything we can."


	2. Chapter 2

Scott folded his arms and leaned against the wall when he felt the ground shake. Alvers had been pacing for the better part of an hour, and Scott was starting to wonder if they were going to see a new fault line created if they waited much longer. “Dude, chill. They’ll let us know if anything changes.”

A shudder ran down his spine at the look Alvers shot him. 

“What happened anyway?” Jean asked.

Lance sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “One minute he was fine. Next he was…” he trailed off, as if trying to find the words. “I dunno. He was just… gone. Stopped talking. Spaced out. Then he dropped.”

Scott nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

He’d known something was up. He’d known it even before he’d run into Maximoff in the school bathroom. He’d known something was up, and he’d kept quiet about it. 

And now? If anything happened to Maximoff, his name was on it. 

_ ‘You couldn’t have known it was that bad.’ _

_ ‘Rude, much?’ _

_ ‘Sorry. But in my defense, you’re practically screaming those thoughts.’ _

“I swear to God if they hurt him…” Lance spoke through gritted teeth, and the ground shook even more.

“Seriously, knock it off,” Scott snapped. “Bringing the place down won’t help him.”

He watched as Lance took a deep breath and slowly unclenched his fist. “I thought he was…”

“I know,” Scott sighed and all but fell into a chair. 

He remembered what it had been like when Jean had gone down, not even six months ago. He’d been helpless, stood there and watched as she fell to the ground, her powers working outside of her control.

If Alvers was feeling a fraction of what Scott felt then, Scott pitied him. It was a hell no one should have to go through, and yet most of them had.

“He’s been acting weird for weeks,” Alvers spoke, breaking a deafening silence. “I should’ve… There should’ve been…”

Had it been anyone else, Scott would have gone over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Told him it wasn’t his fault. That there was nothing he could have done. That Pietro Maximoff would pop up right next to the word ‘stubborn’ in the dictionary.

But things were always so damn complicated when it came to the Brotherhood. It wasn’t supposed to be his job to comfort his enemy.

Right?

“You did the right thing,” Jean said, pulling Alvers out of his spiral of blood-letting and guilt. 

And he  _ had  _ done the right thing… Right?

Maximoff had needed help. Needed help that the other Brotherhood boys couldn’t give, and help that Mystique, even if she were still around, sure as hell wouldn’t give. But Maximoff was Magneto’s son, and Scott couldn’t help but think dragging him here had painted a bright red target straight over the Institute.

Scott tried not to jump when he heard Logan clear his throat from the doorway. “Better be gettin’ settled in,” he said, staring directly at Alvers. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

\---------------------------------------------------

Pietro almost looked docile when he was asleep. Scott leaned against the wall of the medbay, keeping an eye on the speedster. He and Jean had been tag-teaming it for the past several hours.

Asleep, he almost looked harmless.

Asleep, it was almost easy to forget how big of a threat Pietro had posed and could pose against them. 

Lance, to his credit, hadn't left Pietro’s side. 

Sometimes Scott could catch a glimmer of what Kitty saw in the hothead.

No one had bothered telling them what had happened. Just that they needed to keep an eye on Pietro. Wait and see. Only time would tell.

“I can handle this, Summers,” Alvers spoke, breaking a long silence.

Scott cocked an eyebrow and turned to face him. Like hell was he leaving two Brotherhood boys alone in that basement, even if one was completely incapacitated for the time being.

“Whatever,” Alvers muttered and turned back to his friend. 

Pietro stirred slightly, and Scott caught himself holding his breath. 

He was supposed to report any change in condition to the Professor, but… Maybe it had been a trick of the light.

Except that Alvers had noticed it too. “Hey, Tro,” he whispered, smoothing Pietro’s hair down. 

Pietro’s eyes fluttered open, only for a second, before falling shut again. Scott found himself watching the younger boy’s chest, breathing a sigh of relief when it rose and fell.

“He’ll be okay,” Scott said, though he wasn’t sure that was the truth.

“He’s never okay.”

The words were so quiet Scott thought he’d imagined them at first, but Lance was looking at Pietro like he pitied him, like he was some broken thing held together with scotch tape and white glue that could fall back apart at the drop of a hat.

Scott sighed and watched Pietro sleep. Maximoff was an arrogant little bastard, that much he knew but just how much was that arrogance masking? 

“You gotta pull through this, ‘Tro,” Lance whispered. “You gotta.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wasn’t supposed to have heard the conversation.

Scott was sure of that much.

He’d been around the place long enough to know when the Professor or Storm or Logan didn’t want him in on things, especially important ones, but that had never really stopped him from eavesdropping before, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him then. 

“Blood work back…” 

Scott leaned against the wall, trying to listen in. 

“I don’t like this, Chuck.” 

“He’s just a boy, Logan. He deserves our help as much as any of the others.” Scott shut his eyes, honing in on Ororo’s voice.

He wondered how many times she’d stood up for him. For all of them.

“...abnormalities…”

“Experimentation?”

“Magneto will go far. But his own son? Charles, you can’t believe that...”

“I don’t know what to believe.”

Scott shook his head and moved away from the wall. Whatever they were talking about, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more of it.

“You’re obsessed.”

Scott nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around and folded his arms across his chest. Sometimes he hated how he and Jean seemed to operate on the same wavelength. How they seemed to know each other’s moves before they even thought to make them.

“I am  _ not  _ obsessed.”

Jean cocked an eyebrow and leaned against the panelled wall. 

Lance, to his credit, hadn't left. He watched Pietro like a hawk, questioning everything that happened to the silver-haired teen.

Scott could fault Lance for a lot of things, a hell of a lot of things. But he was definitely a damned good friend. At least when he wanted to be. 

“You all right, Summers?”   


Scott blinked and looked over at Lance, sitting at the sleeping Pietro’s bedside. 

"What?" Scott questioned, folding his arms across his chest.

The last thing in the world he was obsessed with was Pietro fucking Maximoff. He had much better things to waste his time on. Like...

Like...

"Please," Jean rolled her eyes. "You've practically been stalking him since he beat you a few weeks ago."

"Can you blame me for that?" Scott questioned. The best way to defeat an enemy was to know them, after all.

But was Pietro even the enemy?

Had he ever been?

"Look," Jean sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I just want you to be careful, okay?"

"Okay," Scott conceded, watching as she stared at him a moment longer and walked away.

Obsessed with Quicksilver.

Yeah right.

\----------------------------------------------

Pietro's recovery was the stuff of nightmares.

One minute, he'd be fine. Talking, snarking, complaining that he wanted to get out of the mansion and get back home and away from the, and Scott quoted him, 'X-geeks."

And the next?

The next he'd be passing out or convulsing or struggling to breathe.

Whatever had happened to him, and Scott had a pretty good idea from the conversations he'd overheard, had been bad. Worse than bad.

He would have thought Sinister had gotten his hands on Pietro had he not known any better.

A shudder ran down his spine at the thought. Memories he'd thought he'd gotten past resurfacing that he tried to push down, but they kept coming back up, even when he didn't want them to, especially now that he didn't want them to.

"Fine," Scott snapped a bit too soon. Lance hadn't done anything wrong, but it was so, so much easier to default to dislike.

Anger was so much easier than other emotions trying to force their way out.

"Whatever, man," Lance sighed and studied Pietro's sleeping features. "You just looked like you saw a ghost or something."

"I'm fine," Scott repeated and stared down at Pietro.

He almost looked harmless when he was asleep.

Suddenly, Pietro groaned and shuddered in his sleep, making Scott and Lance both jump to their feet on instinct. Lance, always the bigger of the two, went to pin Pietro's shoulders down, and Scott moved his hands to either side of Pietro's head.

"He's burning up," Scott commented, but Lance didn't respond, too focused on keeping his friend as still as he could.

The seizure came and went, and Scott and Lance eventually backed away.

"I swear if I see him again, I'll..." Lance started to say through gritted teeth, caught himself, and stopped.

"You'll what?" Scott pressed.

It was so much easier to try and pick a fight.

"These guys are bigger than us, Alvers," Scott reminded.  _ Sinister was bigger than you. Bigger and better and always ten steps ahead.  _ "Whoever did this to him would push you aside like you were nothing."

Something flashed in Lance's eyes, though Scott wasn't sure what it was.

He expected Lance to hit him, at the very least shove him. But the ground quaked slightly under his feet and the bigger teen walked away.

"I swear you both need to take a chill pill," a voice said from behind him, and Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

As much as he wished Maximoff would shut up half the time, it was a good sign that he was up and talking.

Scott wished a lot of things to the younger teen, but death had never been one of them.

Scott watched as Alvers immediately re-directed his attention to Pietro, moving beside him and checking him over, making sure he hadn't agitated any of his still-healing injuries. Even with an impressive healing factor (though not on Logan's level - who was?) things were slow-going. One minute fine, the next, not.

Sometimes Scott was afraid to look away from Maximoff on his watch.

"I'm fine, Lance, god," Pietro groaned and shifted, maneuvering around tubes and leads. "Would be a hell of a lot better if you two could shut the hell up for a minute or two."

"You're one to talk," Scott muttered and crossed his arms, leaning against the partition separating Pietro's bed from the rest in the bay.

Pietro rolled his eyes, and Scott took it as a good sign. This was the Maximoff he knew. Not the half dead lump Alvers had dragged in only a few days earlier.

"You're obviously feeling better," Scott commented, and Pietro shrugged.

"I keep telling you I'm fine."

And there it was; the Pietro that Scott had grown accustomed to. All bite and ego, walls so thick no one would get past them, a heart with barbed wire wrapped around it and a bright red ‘trespassers shot on site’ sign.

Alvers shifted his weight from foot to foot, and Scott tried to come back with some sort of retort.

It was easier not to argue with Pietro.

He'd die insisting two plus two equals five just to spite the number four.

Scott caught Lance's gaze just for a moment, an unspoken agreement passing between them.  _ Let him have it for now. _

"So how'd you sleep?" Lance asked, and Scott knew the moment was gone. If there had ever been anything there in the first place.

Because sometimes it wasn't X-Men versus Brotherhood, Scott against Lance.

Sometimes it was mutants versus the world.

And didn't that trump it all?

\----------------------------------------------------------

School was another ballgame entirely, not that Scott expected anything different. Pietro had been missing for days now, and people were asking questions he couldn't answer. He and Pietro didn't run in the same circles. They sure as hell didn't have the same friends. For all he knew, Maximoff was out with a nasty bout of the flu.

Lance, to his credit, seemed just as content to ignore Scott as Scott was to ignore him.

Pietro was sick.

That was all anyone needed to know.

Could Scott take extra careful notes for him to borrow when he got back?

No problem, Ms. W.

Still.

Maximoff was an underclassman in AP Chem.

He'd be so far behind he'd have no hope of getting caught up.

Scott sighed and shut his eyes, figuring he'd have to be the one to get him back on track.

Not that school was likely to be the least of his worries right then.

The other Brotherhood Boys couldn't care less about school. And Pietro? May have talked a tough game, but his grades were always neck and neck with Kitty's.

He was a sophomore in three of Scott's classes, that definitely wasn't something to scoff at.

He’d been out of school for two weeks now, and Scott was worried he’d never catch up. Well. Maybe worried was a strong word. Because it wasn’t like Scott worried about Pietro (he didn’t) or cared how he did (he  _ didn’t _ ).

Still, he’d grabbed an extra worksheet and gotten into Pietro’s locker to grab his books so he could at least get some semblance of caught up for when he came back to school (if he ever did).

He frowned as he opened the door.

He just needed to go in, grab a few books, and get back home.

Going through Pietro’s locker would be wrong.

But…

Pietro would never need to know, right?

Scott spun in the combination the office had given him and swung the door open.

Pietro’s locker was all but immaculate. Books stacked up nicely against each other. Folders and notebooks color coordinated.

Not a picture in sight.

Nothing personal at all.

Sometimes, he’d learned, it wasn’t necessarily the presence of something that gave personality away.

Sometimes lack of presence spoke volumes too.

He reached in, grabbed Pietro’s chem and Algebra II books, throwing the door shut with a bit more force than he probably needed to.

“Yo, Summers!”

Scott shut his eyes and fought a groan.

His day was going so well too.

He threw Pietro’s books into his bag and watched as the Toad hopped over to him. “The hell you think you’re doing in my boy’s locker, huh?”

“Chill, Tolanksy,” Scott rolled his eyes, not that the other teen could see. “Just grabbing some things for Maximoff.”

“Yeah, likely story.”

Scott shook his head and started walking. There were things worth starting fights over.

And Tolansky and his nonsense?

Weren’t worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

Maximoff was wide awake when Scott made it home, and Scott almost wished he hadn't been. It was so much easier to deal with him when he was asleep. Logan was at his side, looking like he’d rather impale the kid than keep an eye on him, and Scott wasn’t entirely sure he could blame him for it.

Pietro knew exactly which buttons to push and when. He didn’t know when to quit, and when he played? He played for blood.

“I got him, Logan,” Scott spoke. Logan grunted something he didn’t quite hear, but got up and left all the same. Scott took his seat and tossed his bag to Pietro. 

He watched as Pietro cocked an eyebrow, staring at him with nothing sort of suspicion. “Whatcha bring me?”

“Schoolwork,” Scott answered, fighting the smile threatening to break through when Pietro groaned and stared up at the ceiling. 

“Let me get this straight,” Pietro looked him dead in the eye. “A half dead me got dropped on your doorstep. And you thought to bring me a fucking worksheet.”

“You’re welcome,” Scott glared and folded his arms across his chest.

Why did Pietro have to be so damn difficult all the time?

_ Look at his family, Summers. _

He took a breath and shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before opening them again. 

Pietro had thrown the backpack to the side of the bed and was staring up at the ceiling, and for once Scott could see how young Pietro was. He’d only turned sixteen a few weeks ago according to Alvers.

They were all too young to have gone through half of what they’d gone through.

Pietro shut his eyes, and Scott thought he was drifting off. He was so still, so quiet. So not like the Pietro he knew.

“They called Django and Marya, you know,” Pietro spoke so softly Scott wasn’t sure he’d heard him at all. He frowned and leaned in with his elbows resting on his knees. Pietro still wouldn’t turn to look at him. “Magneto got to the jail first.”

Never ‘dad,’ Scott noticed. Never ‘father.’

But wasn’t that how it went?

It had always been ‘Magneto’ first and ‘Erik’ second, at least from what little Scott understood about him.

“Who knows,” Pietro laughed dryly. “Another twenty minutes and I might have never been here.”

It was a lie, though, and they both knew it. 

Magneto would have gotten to him one way or the other, just like he would have found a way to get to Alex, and just like Alex would still be worshipping the ground Magneto walked on if the others hadn't saved them when they did.

He wondered if there was any way to save Pietro. If it was even worth trying.

Family relations were messy. Complicated.

And for Pietro? That must have been multiplied tenfold.

“I can’t stay here, Summers, and you know it,” Pietro sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

Scott wanted to argue with him. Tell him it was fine. He could stay as long as he needed to.

But having Pietro here in the first place? They may as well have painted a bright red target overtop of the institute, and the longer he stayed? The more that risk rose, ecause being near Pietro was like playing with fire. And if Pietro didn’t burn him? 

Someone else sure as hell would.

\------------------------------

It was another full week before the Professor deemed Pietro well enough to return to the Brotherhood House, though Scott would have argued to keep him a little longer. He was still dangerously underweight, not to mention the odd seizures, though not nearly as frequent as they’d been when Alvers had first dropped him at their door.

Scott leaned against the wall and watched as Pietro shoved a few things into a duffel bag Alvers had brought him. “You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Packing a damn bag?” Pietro cocked an eyebrow and turned to face him. “I’m not completely helpless, you know.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Scott retorted, shifting his feet and moving to a more defensive stance.

Good to know Pietro’s attitude hadn't been damaged at all.

“Whatever,” Pietro muttered, zipping up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Lance will be here soon and we can go back to hating each other, ‘kay?”   


Scott frowned at that. He’d spent the past several weeks making sure Maximoff didn’t wind up dead. And that was all he wanted to say? “You don’t want that.”

“You don’t know what the fuck I want,” Pietro snapped back, eyes a cold fury, showing more Magneto than Quicksilver.

“He nearly killed you,” Scott reminded, trying to keep his voice calm. He’d overheard the adults when he wasn’t supposed to. Pietro was damn lucky he hadn't died that night, and Scott doubted he even knew it, or if he even cared.

“He’s still my dad.”

Scott shut his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again, looking Pietro over.

Sometimes it was easy to forget Maximoff was barely sixteen. Hell, Scott was only two years older. He tried to remember what he’d been up to at sixteen. Getting brought into the Institute from… He shook his head, not wanting to think about life before all of this. 

But Pietro had mentioned others, only a few weeks ago.

“You could stay,” Scott said, and cut Pietro off when the younger teen started to open his mouth. “Not forever,” he added. “Just… Long enough to find them? Django and Marya?”

Pietro’s expression changed so fast Scott wasn’t sure he’d seen it at all. Cool resolve turning to something pained and straight back to neutral. “I can’t, okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Look,” Scott pushed, even though he knew he shouldn’t have. “If it’s about breaking into those lockers or whate…”

“You don’t fucking get it, Summers,” Pietro shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not breaking into lockers and picking pockets at football games. It’s blowing up buildings and stealing secrets and…” 

Scott watched as his expression turned from upset to horrified. 

“And he’ll fucking kill me for telling you any of that.”

“You can’t go back there, Maximoff,” Scott sighed, but Pietro was gone before he could finish the breath.

\----------------------------------------------

There were lots of people Scott worried about, sure. Alex, now that Scott knew he was alive. Jean, more often than he’d admit to. But Pietro Maximoff? Yeah right. 

Still.

Scott was losing sleep over him.

Because Alvers had dropped a half-dead Maximoff off on their doorstep. Because they'd had more close calls than Scott could count. Because he was stupid enough to think that he and Maximoff had had a  _ moment  _ and that Maximoff wasn't the slippery little weasel Scott had always thought him to be.

Because Scott had been stupid enough to believe Maximoff had anything remotely close to resembling a heart.

_ "We can't force people to stay, Scott,"  _ the Professor had told him that evening.  _ "He has to stay willingly or not at all." _

_ "Magneto's too deep in his head, Professor,"  _ Scott had argued right back.  _ "He doesn't think he  _ can  _ stay." _

_ "I know it's difficult, Scott,"  _ the Professor had responded, his voice calm and collected just like it always was.  _ "But we have to let him go." _

_ "He'll kill him." _

Scott turned onto his side and reached for his glasses on the side table, putting them on before opening his eyes and checking the time.

2:15 AM.

Like he really thought he was going to get any sleep that night anyway.

He threw a t-shirt on over his sweats before heading out of his room and downstairs toward the kitchen.

He nearly jumped out of skin when he saw Kurt sitting at the island. 

“You’re up late,” Scott commented, folding his arms across his chest.

“Ja,” Kurt nodded, tilting his head to look over at Scott. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“You’re one to talk.”

He grabbed a soda from the overhead cabinet before sitting down next to his best friend. “You all think I’m losing my mind.”

“Believe me, dude,” Kurt laughed, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “You do not want to know half of what people think of you.”

Scott nodded and twisted the bottle cap open, mostly to give his hands something to do. “You know a sick part of me gets it,” he said after a long moment. 

“Gets what?” Kurt asked, swiveling to face him.

“Him going back,” Scott sighed and took a drink .

“That doesn’t mean you have to like it.”

Scott nodded and set his drink down on the counter.

Who would have ever thought the resident jokester would give some of the best advice? “I swear you’re a priest or something in another life.”

“Yeah right,” Kurt snorted and shook his head. “The church taking in me?” he gestured toward his face. “I doubt it.”

“Hey, I said another life,” Scott defended, taking another drink of his soda. A silence hung between them, and Scott wasn’t sure how to break it. “So... What’s got you up?”

Kurt shrugged and stared up at the ceiling. Never a good sign. Kurt always had something to say about everything, if experience was anything to go by. “I just can’t believe someone would do something like that,” he said after a moment.

Scott nodded slowly and stared down at his soda bottle. 

Sometimes it was easy to forget Pietro wasn’t the only one something like this had happened to.

“You okay?” he pressed, leaning against his elbow and resting his chin on his hand.

“I’ll be fine,” Kurt assured, a genuine smile on his face before turning serious again. “Will you?”

Scott felt his blood run cold. 

Because Kurt was one of the few people who knew. Or at least one of the few people he’d told.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, taking a drink of his soda more out of a need to give himself something to do than anything else. “I always am.”

\-----------------------------------------

Scott would have been lying if he said he wasn’t surprised to see Maximoff in school the following Monday, bag slung over his shoulder, leaned against his locker, chatting up some cheerleader like nothing had even happened.

Where had he been?

Away.

Away where?

Mind your own business.

“Maximoff,” Scott stopped in front of them, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t like he had anything to say. Or at least anything he could say in front of someone who wasn’t in on the dirty little secret.

“What?” the younger boy rolled his eyes and tilted his head to glance at Scott. 

God.

It was like he was born with a universe sized ego.

Scott looked him over, trying to size him up. He hated to admit it, but Maximoff  _ did  _ look better than he had that Friday. And a hell of a lot better than he had just a few weeks prior. “Nothing,” he said. “Just glad to see you’re back.”

“I’m sure you are,” Pietro rolled his eyes and turned back to smile at the cheerleader. “People, right?”

Scott started back down the hall, pausing when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You have to let this go, Scott,” Jean whispered into his ear.

Scott took a deep breath and shut his eyes, counting to ten before exhaling and opening them again. Jean linked her arm with his, leading him away from the lockers and toward the unused home ec room.

Scott shut the door behind them and leaned against the wall, out of the line of sight of the window. “You saw him, Jean,” he shook his head. “He could have died. Anyone else would have.”

“I know,” Jean sighed and slid into one of the desks. “But you can’t force him to come back, Scott. You can’t.”

Scott shook his head again and ran a hand through his hair. Did she and the professor both think he didn’t know that? He couldn’t control what other people did. He couldn’t make them make the right decisions. He  _ knew  _ that. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I know you’re worried,” Jean continued. “I know you just want everything to be okay. But Pietro? Pietro is  _ never  _ going to change sides.”

“You don’t know that,” Scott spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“I do, though,” Jean stood up, crossing the room and placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “And even if he did want to change sides?” she continued. “Magneto would never let it happen.”

_ You don’t get it, Summers! This isn’t stealing from lockers and picking pockets at football games… _

“He’s scared,” Scott sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Can you blame him?”

And wasn’t that the worst part?

Scott couldn’t blame him for being scared. He couldn’t blame him for not leaving Magneto. Hell. Scott would have done anything to see his dad again, granted his dad hadn't been the absolute monster Magneto was. 

“He’s desperate for someone to love him,” Jean finished, voice gentle. 

“I thought you couldn’t get a read on his mind?”

“I don’t need to for that.”

Scott wrapped his arms around himself and stared up at the ceiling. “I hate it when you’re right, you know.”

“Oh I know,” Jean grinned. “Everyone does.”


End file.
